


Love, Pain and Felines

by Denkinoko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Curses, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mystery, Not Epilogue Compliant, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecy, Romance, Self-Harm, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denkinoko/pseuds/Denkinoko
Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy has been sentenced to attend the special Eighth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His only motivation to attend, the fiery war heroine Hermione Granger, is missing.There are rumours of Voldemort surviving. His mental health is declining steadily. He is giving into despair... until he comes across with a curious, curly haired cat trying to enter the Hogwarts Library.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 33
Kudos: 115





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katschako](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katschako/gifts).



> Hello everyone! I welcome you to my very first Harry Potter fic!  
> Thank you very much for choosing to read my work. Unfortunately, I cannot promise an update schedule, but I am fully invested on this baby and will update at least once a month.
> 
> This story contains depictions of self-harm, bad coping mechanisms and PTSD, amongst other triggering topics. I will treat them all carefully as a survival of several of these, so please don't doubt that I will put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters in which they are mentioned or depicted.

Draco Malfoy stood at the apparition point in Hogsmeade, as ready as he could be for his last year at Hogwarts. After two weeks in Azkaban and a bit more than a month and a half on house arrest, it was quite strange to be around witches and wizards once more. Despite there being no more Dementors at the magical prison since the Dark Tosser’s defeat, Draco still had that sinking feeling of hollowness in his very bones. Not even the late summer sun kissing his pale skin was enough to get rid of the chill that had settled in his heart for the better part of a year now.

The Wizengamot’s ruling still rang in his ears. He could swear that sometimes the booming voice of Minister Shacklebolt resounded from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, almost as though it were mocking his predicament. 

_ “You are sentenced to house arrest on Malfoy Manor until the 1st of September of the present year. On that day, you are to attend the special Eighth Year along with your classmates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your wand will be held by the Ministry of Magic until the day before the start of term, with no right to judicial appeal on the matter.”  _

He thought that the apathy and anger would be gone the day they gave him his wand back. However, the initial giddiness that tingled throughout his very being when he held his once-beloved hawthorn again ebbed away fairly quickly.

Draco sighed, nervously raking his fingers through his disheveled blond hair. He kind of knew what was coming to him  —the stares, the hexes, and maybe fights, even— but it all seemed so much better than being in his tainted childhood home… His beloved safe-space that was still haunted by all the evilness that dwelt within its walls. 

He strolled towards the school grounds with an apparent relaxation undeserving of someone like him. He, who helped malice incarnate achieve one of the foulest plans ever conceived… 

In truth, he held his hidden wand so tightly between his long fingers that his knuckles turned an even grimmer tone of white. He hoped that, to the hateful onlooker, he was just a young man that was not worth their time. Yet, he knew he needed to have protective spells on the tip of the tongue and his wand at his fingertips just in case. 

Not only the side of the Light hated him, no. Former Death Eaters and their families swore revenge on the Malfoys for their cowardice and treason. The surname he had once flaunted with so much pride was now —ironically— covered in mud. Outside of the wards of the Manor, anybody could get to him. He had no doubt they would try.

His nerves were settled for the most part once he saw the skeletal, dark beings waiting for him. He was relieved that the Headmistress had kept her word, for he hadn’t really expected anybody to come to his aid. He was to be the last one carried on to Hogwarts to prevent any further altercations, or so her letter said. 

With all those thoughts flurrying through his head, he nearly missed the curly-haired brown cat that was walking haphazardly in his same direction.

* * *

He was relieved when he saw Theo and Blaise sitting sheepishly on the farthest corner of the Slytherin table. They had been able to write to each other right after his trial, and he was more than pleased to see them both there, just as their correspondence had promised. Re-doing this year would have been a nightmare without them both.

He sat next to them nonchalantly, ignoring the whispers of those he passed by.

_ Death-Eater. Fucker. You should’ve stayed in Azkaban. I hope you rot in hell. Why didn’t you die? You don’t deserve to be here. Bloody traitor. _

All of these insults and more he bore in silence, with the expressionless mask he had been taught to wear. Meanwhile, his mind neatly organized his feelings into bookshelves, effectively shutting himself from the outside world. 

“Welcome, dear students, to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The Headmistress had stood up from the chair at the other end of the Great Hall while Draco and his fellow Slytherin friends exchanged quiet greetings. Her voice effectively silenced the chatter, beckoning everybody’s attention with her head held high. 

“Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony, there are some things I’d like to share with you all.”

Her gaze drifted from face to face, settling on the herd of amazed and frightened First Years who were silently gawking at everything around them at the door.

“These past few years have been polluted by hatred and darkness. Our noble school was the battleground for one of the most horrifying fights of all time against one of our oldest enemies: fear. Some of us were lucky enough to survive, while the same thing cannot be said for many others.” 

Mcgonagall’s eyes glazed over, and she looked towards the enchanted night sky as if asking for help from the heavens. 

“The lives we lost, the friends and families who gave their very existence for peace cannot and  _ will _ not be allowed to go to waste. It is up to us to stop this cycle of hate and pain, and this begins today.”

The Great Hall was silent as she perused her students’ faces. Some of them were smug, others were triumphant. Among those, there were others who were scowling or sneering. There were even some tearful visages scattered in between.

Draco could feel the piercing stares of the students around him. 

“It is often said that the victors write History. It is well-known that it’s human nature to seek vengeance, even after all has been lost. This is why there are some new rules being set from this moment on. Firstly, discrimination of no kind will be allowed. Not on the classrooms, not on the Halls, not on the dorms nor even in Hogsmeade. This will be regardless of a student’s preference during the war or their house.”

Indignant claims arose from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables while the Slytherins cowered or scoffed in contempt. Mcgonagall, however, silenced them all with a sharp hand gesture.

“There will be  _ no _ exceptions. It is up to us to stop the madness,” she exclaimed with a strong  _ Sonorus _ charm to her throat, “and there will be  _ severe  _ consequences for those who defy my orders, including expulsion.”

The Great Hall was completely silent once more, and she resumed her speech as if nothing had happened.

“Secondly, we will perform several activities to promote inter-house unity during the school year. If you wish, you may now seat at any table with your friends, except for today and for the End-of-Term Feast.”

“You may have noticed that there are some familiar faces back in Hogwarts that, perhaps, you did not expect to see here. This is because, due to last term’s  _ circumstances _ , Seventh Year students were offered the chance to come back and complete their education on a special Eighth Year. They will share lessons with the Seventh Years, but will not return to their old dorms. Instead, on account of their age and other factors, we have created a special dorm which will be shown to them after the Feast. They may, however, return to their common rooms in order to spend time with their friends from other years. In addition, they will be given extended curfew and special Hogsmeade privileges on the weekends, providing they come back at reasonable hours.”

An excited chatter befell the room once more. With a gentle smile and a dramatic pause, the new Headmistress finished her speech. 

“Due to some unforeseen state of affairs, we shall announce the new Head Boy and Head Girl as soon as possible. Meanwhile, you shall follow the lead of the Prefects. Once again, I welcome you to the School, and hope we all have a wonderful and uneventful year. Let the Sorting Ceremony begin!”

Draco’s eyes seemed to be glued to the huge group of newcomers, but he never once clapped when any scared eleven or twelve-year old was sorted into Slytherin. Instead, his mind wandered, and his right hand nervously fumbled with the “Head Boy” badge on his pocket. As he did, he surreptitiously sneaked some glances to the Gryffindor table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	2. First Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I hope you are doing well.  
> As some of you know, I'm more of a short story writer, so my chapters tend to be... well, short. I'm trying to lengthen them a little bit, but the chapters will most likely vary a lot in length.  
> Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

_ Draco resolutely stuck his chin up, looking at his father in the eye. Lucius, as regal as ever, sniffed down at his only son and went back to the parchment on his desk, effectively ending the conversation for both of them. _

_ “You are dismissed.” _

_ The young Malfoy heir  _ _ —  _ seriously _ , wasn’t that title supposed to give him anything he wanted? — stood up and left his father’s study as calmly as possible, pretending not to be rattled.  _

_ “Father,” he bowed slightly as a farewell, then opened the door and sprinted to his wing of the Manor, ignoring the sharp looks he got from the portraits on the way. He would not make the same mistake again. He was not a little kid anymore, and Malfoys did not cry. Specially not where some lousy dead-relatives could then tattle to his parents.  _

_ Draco inwardly sighed with relief once he got to the familiar dark oak double-doors. He all but ran inside, slamming the bloody things in lieu of the retort he had in mind for his father. How dare he?  _

_ He headed towards the nearest windows on his chambers, feeling the unfamiliar prickling sensation on his eyes and gripping the windowsill so hard he thought the material would break from the sheer force of it. _

_ All of a sudden, his bedroom windows were blasted outwards, startling his father’s stupid peacocks prancing nearby on the gardens. _

_ Darn it! He’d done it again. _

_ As he predicted, his dear mother was by his side in the blink of an eye, casting a cursory  _ Reparo _ on each window. Meanwhile, he hid from her worried gaze, already aware that the second she asked, he’d cave.  _

_ He both wanted and didn’t want to tell her what was up. He was a  _ Malfoy _ , for crying out loud! Emotions were useless. He needed control. But he found all the control he fought to maintain had already been slipping from his fingers since the very beginning. _

_ “What’s wrong, my dragon?” she asked, kneeling down in front of him while lovingly stroking his cheek with one hand. _

_ Draco really tried with all his might, but he wasn’t strong enough to keep the fat tears from flowing freely. _

_ “H-he told me to-to stay away from Blaise! S-said that-that a Malfoy would not be parading around the school with blood traitors” he hiccuped, hugging his mother tightly. He was told Theo would do the same, but Draco knew better. Theo despised his father and would not follow orders while being at school — or so he’d confessed to Blaise and Draco that very morning. That could only mean that he would be stuck with his least favourite friends — Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle — as companions.  _ Why _ , for Merlin’s sake, did his father hate Blaise that much? _

_ “Oh, my dear” his mother cooed, comforting Draco. She caressed his hair softly as she allowed him to let everything out. Thank Morgana she’d suspected what was coming and took the precaution of silencing the room beforehand. She really did love her husband, but disapproved of his ruthless parenting methods. Alas, there wasn’t anything she could do apart from comforting her only son.  _

_ Draco cried and screamed until his throat was raw at the injustice of it all. The three of them had been attached at the hip since they practically were in nappies, and after roughly a decade of sharing your life with the same two people he couldn’t fathom how he’d cope without them at school. They had loads of inside jokes, knew each others’ favourites as well as pet peeves, and had made so many plans already! Together, they were going to rule the school! And now, thanks to his very own father, everything was ruined. _

_ “Don’t you worry, Draco. You can still spend some time together,” Narcissa whispered lovingly into his ear. “Perhaps not as much as before, but I could still take you to visit whenever you come back from Hogwarts. In fact, we can invite them over when your father is not home, if you promise not to tell” Narcissa said, threading her fingers through her son’s soft hair. He almost instantly stopped crying. _

_ “You promise?” Draco asked, a sparkle of hope in his gray eyes. _

_ “I promise.” _

* * *

_ Draco first saw her in Flourish and Blotts, after meeting a scrawny-looking boy at Madam Malkin’s. He was not much of a conversationalist, that much he could be sure of. He got the impression the bloke did not like him very much, but no matter. He just hoped he didn’t end up in Slytherin with him. What a disgrace would that be, with such a shabby appearance and dreadfully Hufflepuff-like discourse! _

_ He perused the multiple shelves as he ruminated his thoughts, skimming over the titles in hopes of finding an interesting new book to read. So engrossed he was on his task, that he didn’t see the bushy-haired girl he accidentally bumped into, making her fall flat on her arse with a tiny ‘oomph!’ _

_ He was immediately frozen into place, staring down at her deep, dark brown eyes. She was wearing some curious blue pants and weird-looking shoes instead of dressing robes. Her frizzy, brunette hair stuck everywhere, defying gravity in a strangely endearing way. What finally caught his eye were her buck teeth and round cheeks, which were faintly coloured with her embarrassment.  _

_ Mentally scolding himself for staring — how horrified would his mother be! — he offered his hand to help her up. He felt himself grow hotter by the millisecond, yet decided to ignore the queasy feeling. _

_ “I’m awfully sorry, I was so absorbed by the books that I did not see you coming, Miss…?” _

_ “Granger,” the girl answered politely with a shy smile. “Hermione Granger.” _

_ Looking at her closely, she seemed to be about the same age as him. His heart skipped a beat, wishing she was going to Hogwarts with him. _

_ “Say, Miss Granger,” he asked, feeling brave. “Are you looking for something in particular? Something for school, perhaps?” He hoped the titles she mentioned would give him a clue on whether she was attending Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang.  _

_ “Not really, no, I was only looking for some light reading. My parents are in line to pay,” she said, motioning towards the queue, “and they gave me permission to buy a couple of extra books. What about you?” _

_ Draco gave her a warm smile. Perhaps it was silly to think so — they certainly weren’t the only people in there looking for books — but to him, it felt special. Like they had something in common. _

_ “Why, I was doing the same. Father is buying the tomes for my first year at Hogwarts, so I decided to come take a look at anything I fancied.” _

_ “There are so many books around here, I kind of want to read them all!” she said, giggling a bit in excitement. “I haven’t seen anything quite like this before. Is there any title you’d recommend?”  _

_ Draco nodded eagerly, glad to find someone who’d listen to his blabbering about books. His mother always tried to spend time with him, but frequently had to tend to other important matters — or so she said.  _

_ “Of course! There’s the classic  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ in non-fiction, as well as  _ Quintessential Cities of the Wizarding World _ …” he answered, raising an eyebrow in thought. “Of course, if you haven’t already, you could also read my favourite fictional saga,  _ The Crimson Keep _. The third book will be out very soon, and I honestly think they’re brilliant. You should be able to find them at the very back.”  _

_ He stopped himself, suddenly embarrassed from speaking so excitedly. Malfoys were supposed to be cool, not chatty! Despite this, Hermione was beaming at him like she’d never met a fellow bookworm in her life. _

_ “Thank you very much. I’ll definitely look out for them” the brunette said, balancing on the balls of her feet. She seemed like she wanted to say more, but was rudely interrupted by some kind of high-pitched noise coming out from her wrist-watch.  _

_ “Drat. I should hurry, my parents must be about to finish now...” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. “I’m sorry for cutting it short. It was very nice to meet you. See you in Hogwarts! I hope we get sorted into the same House!” she cheered, walking swiftly away from him with a last backward glance in his direction, taking the warmth with her. Unbeknownst to them, a pair of blue eyes was watching from afar. _

* * *

_ Narcissa Malfoy re-read her son’s latest letter next to a roaring fire on a cold, November morning. She couldn’t decide whether to be worried or amused as she scanned the contents of the misieve. Once again, in between everything else he mentioned, was Hermione Granger. _

_ “. _ ..I don’t think she’s got many friends. I thought she got along well with Potter and the Weasel, but I heard him dissing her in the courtyard, saying she was a nightmare just as she walked by. How stupid must he be? Yes, she may be the swot extraordinaire, and perhaps her hair is kind of appalling, but I think calling her a nightmare is going too far. She’s one of the most brilliant students in that dreadful House of theirs, if not in the whole year. I’m tired of her getting better scores than me on everything — except on Potions, maybe — but just you wait! I’ll turn the tables around before Christmas.

Speaking of which, I’ve been thinking about getting a Nimbus 2000 this year, as well as…”

_ Sighing, she stood up and walked towards the closed mahogany doors in a brisk pace. There, she murmured the spell she needed. _

_ “ _ Homenum Revelio _.” _

_ Lucius was home, as she feared, but he was busy somewhere else in the Manor with another person. Nevertheless, it didn’t hurt to be careful, especially regarding her own son’s well being.  _

_ There was an almost ironic advantage of being the perfect, pure-blood wife: nobody knew exactly how proficient she was with a wand. She had learnt much more than colour-changing spells throughout the years.  _

_Waving her wand around, she cast a_ Room-sealing spell _, an_ Imperturbable Charm, _and a_ Caterwauling Charm _for good measure. Finally, going through the motions several times, she cast her last spell to strengthen them all._

_ “ _ Fianto Duri _.” _

_ Satisfied after examining her spellwork twice, she headed towards the furthest corner of the room. There, she kneeled and pointed her wand at one of the planks. _

_ “ _ Finite Incantatem _.” _

_ Reaching out inside the enlarged and previously concealed space, she  _ Accioed _ all of Draco’s letters from school and walked back to her favourite seat. Once there, she opened and read them all again, searching for more evidence of her son’s infatuation with the mudblood. _

__ “They were saying she almost transfigured a match into a needle in her first class! I knew she was infuriatingly smart, but I don’t think anybody’s done that before, not even a Ravenclaw…”

“You should have seen her, mother, balancing on the edge of her seat with her hand high up in the air as Severus humiliated Potter on the spot…”

“...the nerve of that woman, correcting my grip on the broom? And then, of course, Longbottom got hurt and Potter defied me as soon as Hooch was off the field. Granger told him not to, but he dismissed her anyway. How can they ignore the only smart person in that crowd of baboons is beyond me. You should have seen how she looked when her broom wouldn’t come up…”

_ Mother and son wrote to each other at least once a week. On every single letter from Draco, to a greater or lesser extent, the funny looking girl was mentioned. Whether she was having a horrible hair day, or spending more time with the Weasley boy instead of Longbottom, there was no detail that escaped her son’s notice.  _

_ Was he aware of what was truly going on inside his head or — Morgana help them all — was he blissfully oblivious?  _

_ She could only hope, for his sake, that the Granger girl was a passing fancy in her son’s early youth. _

_ In an effort to save him from the clutches of her fanatic husband, she decided to plan ahead of time and take the matter into her own hands.  _

_ Narcissa went back to her hiding place and returned the old letters, along with the new one, before re-warding the spot. Then, deciding against sitting on her armchair, she went to the ornate desk in the middle of the room. There, she dipped her favourite quill on her finest inkpot. The only sound that could be heard as she worked was the scratching on the elegant piece of parchment. _

_ “ _ Dear Mrs. Parkinson,

I hope my missive finds you well….” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	3. The Phoenix and the Wise Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope things get better for all of you.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Brief flashback; brief implied torture.

“Have you heard the rumours?” Theo asked Blaise and Draco while they were following the Headmistress around the castle along with the other Eighth Years. They were on the way to their new dorms when Peeves had the great idea to flood the hallway they needed to cross to get there. Naturally, they had to take the long way while Filch took care of it, which became awfully longer once the stairs decided to change their course as well.

The three friends were somewhat apart from the rest of the group, decidedly ignoring any and all potential questions from their fellow classmates. As Theo and Blaise chattered away, Draco scanned the familiar faces to double-check who else was back.

“Apparently, she hasn’t been seen for two whole days…”

From Slytherin, there were his two friends, as well as Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. They weren’t going to bother him or his mates, but he didn’t expect them to be all chummy either. 

“Bloody hell. I was wondering why she wasn’t here.”

Then, they had the sodding Gryffindors: Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan. The Patil twins were also there, along with Lovegood and the Weaselette, for some reason. He’d most definitely snoozed through that part of the conversation. 

“Yeah. They say only her clothes were found-”

He didn’t even bother looking at the yellow nor blue-clad students. He only knew that the one person he was hoping to see was not there. 

“We’re here” the Headmistress exclaimed, coming to a sudden halt at the end of a very long and narrow corridor. Draco swore he’d never stumbled upon that place before in his life — which, on second thought, was an easy feat to accomplish at Hogwarts.

All of the young ones were now admiring an enormous painting consisting of all of their house animals playing on a flower field, frolicking amicably in the grass. At the very back of the scene, they could get a glimpse of the Castle in its early years. Perched on the top of the highest turret, a phoenix bird overlooked its other animal companions.

Much to the students’ amusement, McGonagall greeted the inhabitants of the painting.

“Good evening, Wise Ones” she exclaimed with a smile and a subtle inclination of her head. In turn, the five animals inside of the painting bowed regally, suddenly aware of the people in front of them. Draco never thought he’d see the day in which a snake would bow. Although, he’d already done that, hadn’t he? 

“These,” McGonagall explained with her outstretched hand towards the canvas, “are the Wise Ones. This hallway was found once the castle reparations were done, with the painting already on the wall. Professor Flitwick and I were granted entrance while we were examining it, and inside we found fifteen bedrooms with individual bathrooms — one for each of you.” 

She paused, lifting her eyebrow at Draco.

“The Wise Ones grant access only to those who belong here, as well as the Head Boy and Head Girl, who may also make use of the amenities even though they have their own private quarters. Much like the Thief’s Downfall in Gringotts, there is no enchantment or potion strong enough to outsmart them.”

With a small sigh, she nodded once again and the Wise Ones let them through. 

Once inside, everybody’s mouths were agape in wonder. Their common room — a wide, rectangular space big enough to house the whole seventeen of them — was decorated in rich purple tones instead of the individual colours of each House. In their place, it seemed to have a bit of every one: there were several comfy armchairs next to a warm fireplace, as well as dark wood cupboards and tapestries depicting the Four Founders. On one of the walls, there were bookcases from side to side filled to the brim with several tomes, and potted plants could be found nearly everywhere. There were a couple of low tables here and there, mostly next to the armchairs. Finally, at the very back of the room there was a huge table perfect for meetings, studying or playing games. Not that they’d invite him, though.

As everybody let their eyes roam around and drink everything in, the Headmistress stood in the middle of the plush carpet and beckoned for their attention for the last time. 

“As I said before, you will each have individual dormitories. The ladies can find theirs behind Rowena and Helga’s tapestry,” she said, pointing them in the right direction, “and the gentlemen can find theirs on the opposite side, behind Salazar and Godric’s. As we are well aware, you are all consenting adults of age, so there are no charms preventing you from visiting each other. In spite of this, I urge you to be responsible with yourselves. You can go talk to Madam Pomfrey or to the library in case you need contraceptive potions or spells. Is that clear?”

Their silence and flushed faces were the answer. McGonagall could only hope the message got across. Godric forbid they finished the school year with an  _ extra  _ student on the way.

“Alright. Please look for your names on top of the bedroom doors. Your things should be already inside. I’ll leave you to make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Malfoy, if you would please follow me” the old witch said, strutting towards the entrance without looking back to check if Draco followed.

The Heads’ dormitories weren’t far away from the Eighth Years’. In fact, they were exactly three hallways and a quarter floor apart  _ —  _ if the stairs behaved. Draco was relieved to be in a secluded part of the castle, where the possibilities of somebody else stumbling upon his dorm were minimal. 

What he liked the most about McGonagall was her sensibility, as well as her no-nonsense attitude towards every endeavour she was involved in. She wasn’t one for small talk, she never beat around the bush and she certainly took care of making herself very clear, both in the classroom and out. When he was younger, he hated how stern she was, but now he appreciated it a lot. His odds of survival were higher with her directing the school, he supposed. Merlin forbid Slughorn to ever be appointed Headmaster. He shuddered at the thought. 

Right in the middle of the fourth hallway they sauntered by, they were greeted by the Snake of Slytherin and, oddly, by the phoenix as well, in a portrait not unlike the one at the previous dorms. The only difference was that the other Wise Ones were missing.

With one look at Draco and the Headmistress, the Snake let them in, with the former at the rear.

“Before you ask, yes, it is the same Wise One who travels between portraits and no, the other ones cannot leave the previous one unattended, except for the Lion. I am sure you can imagine why” she said, lifting one eyebrow at him questioningly. He just nodded, for he already knew who the Head Girl was.

Once the entrance was sealed behind their backs, Draco decided to do them both a favour and quit the idle chatter. 

“Headmistress, where is Granger? I thought you mentioned her being Head Girl for this school year.”

“I did” McGonagall whispered with a sad, troubled look. She motioned for Draco to sit down in one of the leather armchairs by the fire and she took a seat in front of him, wasting no time in settling down. This seemed to be a serious conversation.

“I’ll be truthful to you, Mr. Malfoy, and spare no details. After all, she’s been your classmate and colleague for almost seven years. In turn, I must ask you to keep this to yourself, except, perhaps, Miss Weasley, as she has already been alerted by Mr. Potter.”

Draco swallowed, feeling a cold bead of sweat travelling down his spine. He nodded, closing the books in his mind and carefully placing them on their bookshelves. He needed to get rid of his emotions as he always did whenever she was involved. 

“Mis Granger has been missing for more than 48 hours, and there is currently no knowledge of her whereabouts.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Draco felt the pages flutter, his books wavering, threatening to fall down and collapse. Yet, he was able to hold them in place. McGonagall’s voice sounded far, far away, the words barely distinguishable. 

“The robes she was wearing were found on the floor, along with her wand and other belongings, near the Apparition Point in Hogsmeade. She was supposed to arrive yesterday, you know…?” the Headmistress told him, her throat tightening. He imagined her loss would be a significant one for the woman, given the relationship the ex-Gryffindor Head had with Granger. He had no right to feel like that about her… but his chest tightened. The war was over, wasn’t it? Then, why…?

The silence stretched as she cleared her throat. 

“Of course, the Aurors are already investigating the case, but no significant development has been made, at least not that I know of. We will wait and see if she turns up before announcing your position to the school… if a month has passed, I’m afraid I’ll have to appoint a different person in her place. I hope we don’t get to that point.”

McGonagall sighed, staring at the crackling fire. A heavy silence formed between them, both lost in their own thoughts. 

After an unknown amount of time, the witch left Draco to himself. No more words were exchanged between them. They had enough going on inside their heads.

* * *

Draco woke with a start, all sweaty and agitated, tangled in his own robes. He had fallen asleep on one of the armchairs, holding on to an empty glass of firewhiskey. His head was throbbing and his stomach was a queasy mess after processing such a copious amount of alcohol with so little sustenance. He wasn’t bothered much by it, though; it was a normal occurrence in his sad, little life. What bothered him was the dream—or rather, nightmare— he was having.

The curious curly-haired cat he had seen earlier was now in the castle. It was on one of the corridors near the library, if he wasn’t mistaken. There, the caretaker’s beast was savagely attacking it, biting and scratching while the poor thing curled to the wall, unable to defend itself, covered in its own blood.

It was a horrible vision, for sure, albeit unusual. He’d never dreamt anything similar before; his dreams usually involved the bloody lunatic that had ruined his life. Some other times, it involved his father. The ones that came the least yet startled him the most, were of… her.

_ “What else did you take? What else have you got!? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife! How did you get into my vault!?” _

_ “It’s a copy, I swear!” her voice, raw and pained, echoed on the high ceilings of the ballroom. _

_ A hand squeezed his shoulder. _

_ “Control yourself, Draco. What would Severus think?” _

_ “CRUCIO!” _

With thoughts of her came the pictures, the smells, the sounds. All the voices and sensations swam around, spiraling. The memories got muddled with his nightmares. Screaming. So much screaming. Her blood.

_ “I will carve you up like the filthy animal you are!” _

Draco occluded heavily once again, trying to place each thought and feeling unto their corresponding pages and closing the books. 

The one for Bellatrix. The one for Fenrir. The one for Lucius. The one for Severus. The one for the war… the one for Hermione.

He tried to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned, but couldn’t get rid of the nagging sensation that he should go and look for the damn cat—just to make sure it wasn’t really injured. Or real, for that matter.

Anxiety began bubbling in his chest. He knew it wouldn’t go away until he fucking went and checked for himself that there was  _ no _ cat. 

“Bloody hell.” 

He wandlessly  _ accioed _ one of the many Hangover potions he had on his chest — couldn’t drink himself to sleep on a daily basis, otherwise — and went on his way to  _ not _ find the stupid animal. 

It was hard to navigate Hogwarts even before the Battle. It didn’t matter if you were in your first or seventh year: the blasted building always changed, vanished and added corridors, passages, portraits or even doors. It was part of its magic. It was a new thing altogether to find your way in an entirely new area, half-drunk and in the middle of the night. 

Although logic told him constantly that the library was the other way, he decided to trust his instinct for a change. There was something inside telling him where to go as he wandered through the stone hallways, ignoring the dirty looks the portraits gave him as he unintentionally woke them up with his _ Lumos _ . 

Suddenly, just when he thought he’d lost his way for the twentieth time, he heard it: an angry hiss and a pained meow. 

_ Merlin's balls _ . 

Draco ran like a man possessed, Filch be damned, to where the hopeless yowling creature was. As the tip of his wand settled on the very image from his nightmare, a sense of detachment overcame his body. He hardly processed the wand movement nor the incantation that escaped his lips, letting his muscles act on their own. 

“ _ Petrificus totalus. _ ”

As soon as it hit its target, Mrs. Norris lay frozen on the cobbled floor with her claws out, halted just before she could attack. The ugly cat’s mouth was open on a fierce hiss, her fangs glistening in the dim light. He’d always hated the bloody animal, but he’d never dare add ‘animal abuser’ to his list of sins. She was just a wretched, ancient lady. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of ragged breaths coming from the other hairball at his feet. Draco saw, much to his chagrin, that the poor thing had been mauled by the vicious beast. Meanwhile, Mrs. Norris didn’t have a single scratch on her. Had the nameless familiar defended itself at all? It seemed unlikely, if the amount of blood was any indication. 

Without really thinking things through, Draco Malfoy carefully cradled the brown creature in his arms and left Filch’s poor excuse of a pet, petrified still, to her own devices as he made haste back to his quarters. She deserved as much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	4. Tergeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Depictions of violence, flashbacks, implied torture and blood. Trigger ends on the page break.  
> Check chapter notes at the end for more details.

True to McGonagall's word, when Draco was finally able to find his way back to the entrance of his dorm, the Snake and the Phoenix were there to welcome him. They let him through without delay, almost as if they could sense his distress. Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised at that point, but he had more pressing matters at hand. 

He  _ Accioed _ another vial of Hangover potion from his trunk  — because truly, what spelt ‘addict’ better than needing a double-dose to function as a normal human being? — and let his eyes wander across the room in search of an appropriate surface to work. 

He gently placed the cat on top of a high table as soon as his gaze landed on it, trying his best to ignore the harrowing amount of blood on his clothes and skin. Draco forced himself to control his shaking limbs, for the poor, dying creature only had him to rely on at the moment. He knew it would bleed to death if he waited until its owner came to find it.

Draco racked his hazy brain in order to remember what little he’d learnt about healing during the war. He supposed spells for humans would work on the fuzzy animal, because if they didn’t… Well, he didn’t want to entertain that possibility, at least not at the moment. 

Waving his wand along with several diagnostic spells in quick succession, he discovered the furry being’s life was not in immediate danger. Its wounds needed swift treatment for it to remain that way, but what he knew should be enough.

He muttered the first charm that came to mind,  _ occluding _ like mad to prevent the memories of the man who taught it from flooding into his consciousness. 

“ _ Vulnera sanentur _ .”

The cat’s curly hair prevented him from accurately seeing where the gashes were, so he had to stop and inspect its skin carefully in between incantations.

“ _ Vulnera sanentur. _ ” 

Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead as he worked. His hands, wet with blood and sweat, pulled apart the feline’s matted fur. It was now coloured a dirty red. 

“ _ Vulnera sanentur. _ ” 

Why wouldn’t it stop bleeding? He had scanned its whole body, yet the pool of crimson liquid staining the tabletop only got wider.

_ “LIAR!” Her deranged aunt’s shrill voice echoed so loud it made the crystals on the chandelier clink. _

Where was the fucking wound?

_ “YOU WORTHLESS MUDBLOOD!” _

Just a couple more…

_ Her lifeless eyes, with their sparkle all but gone. _

“ _ Vulnera sanentur! _ ” 

With a final, hoarse scream, the deep laceration piercing one of the cat’s lungs knit itself back together. 

Draco let himself slide to the floor, his wand falling from his clammy hands. He roughly pressed his palms against his closed eyes until they hurt, willing the visions away with deep breaths and stuttering lips. Meanwhile, the metallic smell clung to his nostrils, transporting his mind across time despite his barely cracked  _ Occlumency _ shields.

“I am more than my past. I am more than my past. I am more than my past.”

The sentence he’d fabricated during his mandatory mind-healing sessions seeped through, settling the rough waters of his broken brain. Because that’s what he was, wasn’t it? A broken mess who’d fucked up his and so many lives forever, with a jet black mark on his forearm to prove it.

“I am more than my past. I am more than my past. I am more than my past.”

He could make it all stop. Perhaps he could find out if one could self-crucio all the way to Ward 49. At least he’d have the Longbottoms for company. 

“I am more than my past. I am more than my past. I am more than my past.”

But if not by suffering, how could he make up for the pain he’d caused others?

_ Meow _ .

A weak, barely audible feline whimper brought him back to real life. 

Reaching out for his wand, Draco scrambled up to his feet in order to inspect the owner of said meow, not before  _ Tergeoing _ the bloodshed all around and on him. He meticulously examined the unconscious animal’s body, discovering it was a female cat in the process. The lack of identification on her was brought to his attention, but he figured she would find her way back towards her owner on the morrow. First, she needed some blood-replenishing potions, as well as dittany for the deepest scars. 

He  _ accioed _ the necessary concoctions —he’d come prepared for the worst, seeing as many family members and friends of the fallen were attending school with him— and patiently applied the essence on every raw line, deep or otherwise. Then, he lifted the cat’s head with one hand and tried to pour the potion down her throat without choking her, thankfully succeeding on his endeavor. 

Draco absentmindedly wandered back towards the still-lit fireplace, arranging some sort of bed on the floor by piling plenty cushions in front of it. He set his temporary companion on top, covering her with his robes for good measure. He couldn’t have her freezing to death after all that trouble, could he? 

He was tired. Oh so very tired. Tired of walking around with no purpose, waiting for things to get better. Because they would never, at least not for him. And now…

“Granger…” 

There, on the brink between past and present, he fell asleep on the carpeted floor as he let his fingers run through the soft curls of the living being breathing deeply next to him. 

* * *

He was startled awake by a sharp pain on the palm of his hand.

“Bloody hell…!”

It took Draco a second to make sense of his surroundings, especially because her majesty was having a noisy, hissy fit. She’d bitten him so hard she’d drawn blood, and now was eyeing him suspiciously from the corner, her ears flat and her fur standing on end. 

So much for gratitude. 

He stood up as he headed directly to the table, all the while ignoring the metaphorical daggers she was glaring at him. He applied dittany to his alabaster skin and  _ Tergeoed _ the wound after it closed, thinking about what to do with the distressed feline. He supposed he’d be on the lookout for her owner during the day; probably letting McGonagall know about her would be the best course of action. 

Draco sighed, trying to appear as non-threateningly as possible. He sauntered back towards her, speaking calmly in an effort to pacify the growling creature.

“Easy, girl. I’m not going to hurt you… See? I’m leaving my wand right here,” he said, kneeling down and rolling his wand away. “I was trying to make you comfortable. I’m sorry if I startled you. Are you hungry?” he asked her earnestly, with the voice he only used in the presence of his mother. It lacked the venom he had laced it with for what seemed to be a lifetime ago. 

If a cat could look puzzled, it would have the exact same face as his guest. Little by little, her ears perked up. He remained on his knees, looking her in the eyes with no mask in place. Soon enough, she stopped growling and just stared at him, blinking.

Draco smiled, extending his hand in front of her, beckoning the wary animal to come closer.

“I can get you some food, but I should check your wounds first. Would that be alright?”

He was amazed by her ability to convey her emotions without a human face or voice. She looked wary, yet hopeful. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, which reminded him of Granger’s furry beast — only in her case, she was no half-kneazle. She was just a brilliant, curly-haired house cat. 

Her tail flicked a couple of times as the silence stretched between them, his smile unrelenting. Draco thought now that she was clean, she looked quite cute. He took the time to admire her as she seemed to come to a decision, slowly placing one hairy paw in front of the other until she sat just out of his reach.

They must’ve looked quite silly, sprawled on the floor, eyeing each other as they anxiously waited for the other to move first. Draco couldn’t help but smile further. 

“Okay, thank you. Now I’m going to get my wand and cast some charms to see if there’s any wound I need to address…” he said, slowly reaching out with the same hand he had gestured her with. The cat sat on her hind legs, cocking her head to the right. 

“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt one bit. Let me just move this around-” Draco explained, feeling a bit silly for talking to a bloody cat. It looked like it reassured her somehow, so he just kept going. Sure enough, she stayed very still except for a quick flicker of one of her ears, looking intently at the colours that popped in the diagnostic spell. 

He let a slow breath in relief. His job had been done right. 

“All set! You’re okay. Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, pocketing his wand. 

“No,” she seemed to answer, lowering her body in such a way she looked like a fuzzy loaf of bread on the plush carpeted floor. 

Draco looked at the clock in the wall, noticing it wasn’t exactly time for breakfast yet. However, seeing as the poor thing looked famished, he decided to go out anyway. Plus, he could get some food for himself as a way to avoid the crowds in the Great Hall. It was a win-win situation.

“I’ll go to the kitchens and bring something to you. I’ll be right back.”

With a final backwards glance and a tight-lipped smile, he went through the portrait, not even noticing it was the first time in months he felt something akin to happiness. 

Going to the kitchens hadn’t been as bright an idea as he thought. As soon as he tickled the pear on the painting that opened the secret entrance to the room, dozens of frightened pairs of eyes were on him. 

The elves were in the middle of preparing the breakfast banquet, so he would’ve laughed at the ingredients, pots and pans that had stopped in mid-air when he interrupted their work if the situation hadn’t been as stomach-churning. They alternated between eyeing him suspiciously and glancing at each other, unsure of what to do. The only one who wasn’t looking at him was a female house-elf drinking butterbeer on a stool by the fire. 

Draco swallowed heavily, not really thinking things through before going there. What did he expect, that they’d welcome him with open arms? That they’d gladly give him an early meal and send him back with his belly full? 

No. It had been stupid of him. They all knew what he’d done. Knew what his own family had done to one of their own. 

With a sad sigh, he remembered the last time he’d seen Dobby, struggling to get his friends out of the Manor. Trying to save Granger from his deranged aunt. His friends would not want him, the son of the man who so cruelly abused him for years, the nephew of the woman whose blade pierced his body to death, standing in the middle of the kitchens.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeaky voice interrupted his journey through memory lane. 

“Good morning, young master Malfoy” a tiny, young elf said courteously. “What can Blinky helps you with?”

He was so shocked at her politeness that he couldn’t utter a sound. The other elves were looking right at her, their big eyes filled with disbelief. The only noises that could be heard was the sizzling of pans and the roaring fires of the ovens, the rest of the occupants still frozen in disbelief. 

“Right,” Draco muttered, coming back to his senses, “I was wondering if I could have an early breakfast, um, please?” he asked, feeling strange for asking rather than demanding something to a servant. But baby steps, right? 

Blinky’s long ears flapped as she nodded attentively. “Certainly. Does master Malfoy has a special request?” 

“Er, no. Anything will do. Oh, but could you please include some sausages?” He preferred baked, sweet foods for breakfast, but he couldn’t give a cauldron cake to a cat. Blinky just nodded and curtsied, turning back to the depths of the kitchen. As soon as she disappeared, the other house-elves went back to their tasks. 

Blinky took a very brief time to prepare an assortment of food and arrange it neatly on a beautiful basket, along with a whole bottle of pumpkin juice. She handed the basket to Draco and curtsied again, going back to work without a single word. The message was clear: he was to eat somewhere else, for he was not welcomed in the kitchens.

With a last sigh, he headed back to his dorm. 

However, instead of a quiet stroll, he was found with his two loud-mouthed friends who had been looking for him.

“Oi, there you are, wanker!” Blaise exclaimed, ignoring the gasps and eye-rolls from the ancient portraits on the wall. Theo was next to him, all neat and proper as always. They were both so different, yet they could be so alike.

Especially when it came to pissing him off.

He knew he was being unfair, but his brain wasn’t cooperating. It was still unusual to show their closeness outside of the safety of their dorm walls, for he always expected his father to send one of his letters from Azkaban, accusing him of disgracing the family by being with blood-traitors. He still instinctively let his eyes roam around, looking for a spy or a threat. 

Yet, nothing was amiss. It was just the three of them in the middle of the hallway, smiling fondly at each other.

“We didn’t have time to speak before McGonagall kidnapped you. We were half-hoping to find you before breakfast, but this new part of the castle is bloody confusing” Theo said, scratching his head. “Anyway, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the basket Draco was holding.

“Oh, I went to get an early breakfast,” Draco said, dismissing Theo’s bewilderment. “There’s too much for one person, anyway. Wanna come over?” he asked, inviting the Slytherins to his new, solitary snake-pit.

“Sure!” Blaise agreed excitedly, putting his arm over Draco’s shoulder. “As long as you shower before. You reek.”

“Prat.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW summary: Draco goes back to his room with the bleeding cat in his arms. He proceeds to heal it, having flashbacks of Hermione's torture at the Manor during the war due to the blood.
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	5. Tenebris Vocat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: brief mentions of physical and emotional abuse.

_ Draco tried to take it all as stoically as possible, but being around his father when he was in one of those moods made everything thrice as hard. Shards of glass were raining all over, impulsed by the wrath of Lucius Malfoy’s very own magic. Draco stood in the middle of the room, watching as his father exploded windows, china, and anything else that got at the wrong end of his wand.  _

_ He just stood in the middle of the room, eyes widened in horror, lips pursed in fear. _

_ “I will ask you one more time, son. How is it possible that a filthy little Mudblood got higher scores in every single subject,  _ including _ potions?” His voice was low, yet the usual coolness of his tone had been replaced with vicious anger. _

_ “The teachers like her, father. She is very smart-” he started with a tremulous voice, only to be interrupted swiftly. _

_ “SILENCE!” Lucius struck him on the cheek with his bare hand. “You are a disgrace to this family.” _

_ Lucius Malfoy paced around the room, his eyes narrowed in fury. He had been at it for a while, ever since they received the fated owl from school with his end-of-year results. Draco was shaking like a leaf, not at all unused to his private displays of malice.  _

_ “You’re going to spend the Summer studying with the best private tutors our galleons can buy. You cannot — and will not — be bested by that-  _ thing _.”  _

_ “She’s a human, father, not a-” _

_ “What did you just say?” Lucius interrupted once again, pointing his wand at his son. “Have you learned  _ nothing _ at all, you fool?” _

_ Draco swallowed, remembering the words he’d been told to repeat only in the presence of certain acquaintances. _

_ “I’m sorry, father. I will try harder.” _

_ “See that you do.” _

_ \----------- _

_ Hours later, back in the safety of his room, Draco lay in his four-poster bed in the dark. He had been trying to sleep for a long time, but the scolding he’d got during the evening still cut deep.  _

_ Her mother had healed his bruised face, giving him hot chocolate before she retired for bed. She’d spent the rest of the day with her son, trying to keep his mind away from her husband’s irrational behaviour. She’d also tried to speak about the Granger girl with Draco, to no avail. After a long, frustrating while she left, kissing his cheek and promising all would be well in the morrow. _

_ It was well past midnight then, and Draco was sure nothing would be well in the morrow.  _

_ His summer would be ruined doing extra work he really didn’t want to do. He’d got excellent marks, coming second only to Granger. However, he was sure no amount of studying would help him. There was no competing with her — not even the Ravenclaws could. Wasn’t it enough to be the second best? The girl was a prodigy. _

_ Draco scoffed. What in Merlin’s name was Granger, anyway? He couldn’t match the picture he had in her head with the one his father had painted of Mudbloods all his life. She truly was a gifted witch who overcame any obstacle that life threw her way. If the stories that had run around all year were true, she had accomplished incredible feats, unthinkable for a first year even if they came from a magical family.  _

_ He was angry and confused. He wished he could talk to Blaise and Theo about her, aside from the envious remarks they traded when she was the topic of discussion. He’d been super close to doing it, but decided against it every time. They occasionally sneaked out to an empty classroom in the Dungeons to spend time together after everybody else had gone to sleep, but he knew his feelings for her were too dangerous to say out loud. He’d better keep them close to his heart and pray to Circe that they’d be gone soon.  _

_ He’d tried to be horrible to her all year round, but his heart sometimes won over and he decided he’d rather ignore her presence. He got better at goading Potter and Weasley, for he was jealous of their easy friendship. Yet, no matter what he did, after Pansy threw a jab at her appearance that very first day on the train and he pretended not to know her, Granger never looked back at him.  _

_ Their fateful encounter on Flourish and Blotts seemed like a memory fresh from a delusion. They could never even be friends, no matter how better than everyone she was at magic. If his father wouldn’t let him hang out with a blood traitor, he would never approve of Draco even being in the same room as her. _

_ So, what options did he have left? Pathetic attempts at drawing her attention, longing gazes and frustrated retaliations she didn’t really deserve. He couldn’t really blame her  _ —  _ after all, who would want to be friends with the tosser who teased her nonstop? _

_ His memory wandered back to the fateful day in the Forbidden Forest. He really wanted to damage the trio’s friendship by ratting on them  _ —  _ for what, he wasn’t sure. Then, he’d been given detention with her and Potter, along with Longbottom. _

_ He was sure the Keeper had something against him when he was paired with Longbottom instead of Granger. He’d scared him off with the hope they changed partners, but the brute sent him off with Scarhead instead.  _

_ Then came the thing. The horrifying figure drinking the slain unicorn’s blood  _ —  _ he shivered whenever he reminisced about that night. He’d been ashamed to admit he’d run back to the Keeper, scared out of his mind… but there was something about it that triggered a primal part of his brain. Staying around to see what it could do to him would have certainly been a death sentence.  _

_ He had been so happy when he was finally alone with Hermione, yet she had dismissed him entirely and literally ran to Potter’s arms the second he came back to them. Draco hoped the thing would’ve offed him, but he had no such luck. He seemed to be destined to live his life completely apart from Hermione Granger, as if they were walking along parallel paths, only able to take a glimpse of each other occasionally.  _

_ He hoped the next school year would be better. _

_ \---- _

_ Destiny was a strange concept, one Draco wasn’t entirely sure he believed in. However, fate seemed to mock him by making them meet once again at Flourish and Blotts. The circumstances were all too different, however: Saint Potter was having his picture taken alongside Lockheart, accompanied by the Weasleys and Granger’s parents.  _

_ His face flushed red with rage and envy. How come Potter had everything he wanted? He was famous without lifting a finger, he usually got away with every stupid decision he took, he was fucking rewarded for flying out of turn and even allowed to play even when first years were not allowed to, he had real friends  _ —  _ unlike him with Crabbe and Goyle… perhaps the only things Draco owned that he did not were his impeccable blood and mountains of galleons. Certainly that would be appealing for a young witch?  _

_ Maybe, but not to Granger. He’d give her the entire library at the Manor if he could spend one day with her, just the two of them, no expectations, obligations or bad memories. Just like a year ago, in that very same shop. It almost seemed like a dream. _

_ “Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Draco called out from the stairs, irritated at his presence there. It was like they were tainting his memories with Granger, who was looking at him with an expression akin to disgust.  _

_ “Famous Harry Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page” he spit, his voice filled with disdain.  _

_ Suddenly, a raging red-headed girl was retorting back. _

_ “Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” _

_ Well, well, well  _ — another _ Weasley. His father was nearby, Draco, mused, and he was sure to enjoy the show. If he played his cards well, perhaps he’d even be proud of his attitude. It was worth the try. _

_ “Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!”  _

_ With that he had finally goaded Granger over, basking in her presence like a thirsty beggar to a well. Unluckily for him, she was flanked by the ginger menace, whose face was as red as his hair.  _

_ With renewed malice he bit once more, uncaring of the consequences his actions would spark regarding his and Granger’s already strained relationship, unwillingly drawing the attention of the other adults in the room. What quickly followed then, was a heaping mess.  _

_ His own  _ father _ had got into a fistfight with the Weasley patriarch, making books fly as the audience watched in dread. Granger’s parents were frightened, looking at him like the little shit he truly was. What a way to earn a witch’s grace, wasn’t it? At least they’d get a lasting memory out of it.  _

_ As the fight broke off and Lucius urged them to make their leave, he saw Granger holding the third installment of  _ The Crimson Keep _ , hugging the tome closely to her body as she glimpsed at his own copy in his hands.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	6. Gray Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: depictions of self-harm and mentions of previous suicide attempts after page break until the end of the chapter. Please be careful! Check chapter notes at the end for details.
> 
> Hey everyone! I had so much fun writing the first part of this chapter that I decided to upload it a day earlier. Surprise! There's also an Easter Egg referencing one of my favourite Dramione fics. Can you spot it?
> 
> Be careful cause it gets darker at the end, though. Please reach out if you're in need of help.

“You lucky bloke” Blaise commented with bated breath, appraising the room he was standing in. 

Draco  _ supposed _ it was a beautiful space, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to it since his mind had been worried with thoughts of the curly-haired witch — and then of the curly-haired cat. An elf must’ve come to set things right while he was gone, though, for the room was now impeccable. His robes were on the coat stands by the door, the heap of cushions he’d arranged in front of the hearth were in their place and there were no signs of blood anywhere. 

However, there were no signs of the cat either. Had she run away?

“I must say, it is quite big for a place that’s supposed to house only two people” Theo wondered aloud, letting his eyes roam across the cozy common room. It was much more inviting than the Slytherin dungeons, with plush couches and settees by the fireplace. There was a small kitchenette on the side, with several cupboards containing dinnerware, he discovered after snooping around. 

Meanwhile, Draco scanned the floor nervously, paying no mind to his nosy friends.

“How did you like your rooms, Drakey?” Blaise asked with a snicker, noticing he wasn’t really paying attention.

“They’re fine” he answered absentmindedly, setting the basket with food on top of the four-person table. Then, he proceeded to crouch under it, failing to find his companion again.

“Uh, Draco? What in Merlin’s left tit are you doing?” Theo questioned him, for it had been  _ years _ since he’d last seen his friend so close to the floor. Blaise just watched, an amused smile plastered on his face.

“I’m looking for my cat” the blond answered noncommittally through his teeth, knowing this would bring an onslaught of questions. Well, if she was missing, he’d rather have their help instead of searching on his own.

Finally, Blaise caved, letting out a guffaw. “Mate, you didn’t tell us you got a pet.”

“It’s just temporary” he replied, walking to the other end of the room and getting down on his knees to try his luck under the couches. “I found her yesterday night and I need to find her owner.”

Theo and Blaise exchanged a look, deciding to be as helpful as possible. Draco hadn’t been well for years, so they half-thought he’d been experimenting with potions again and had been seeing things. Theo shrugged, waving his wand silently to set the table for three while motioning Blaise to talk to him.

“Right,” Blaise said with a click of the tongue and a tone that betrayed his disbelief. “So what does she look like?”

Draco was crawling across the floor, examining every nook and cranny. “Well she’s brown, about this big,” he illustrated by holding his hands in front of him, “and her hair is kinda curly, like a mix between a sheep and a cat, maybe?”

“Okay,” Blaise answered with a small smile, calmly noting that his friend was saying the truth. “Kind of like the one on that couch?”

Draco’s head snapped towards the direction Blaise was pointing at. Sure enough, the escapee was half-hidden behind a big cushion, her body low and her tail coiling. She was observing her surroundings with wide open eyes, weary of the new unknown intruders. Draco had been so scared he hadn’t looked on top of that particular couch, foolishly thinking she’d be on the floor like a dog.

A sharp wave of relief washed over his body, having already thought that she was gone forever. He felt strangely responsible for her, even though they’d only been together for less than twelve hours. 

“There you are! You scared me. I brought some sausage” he said in an effort to make her at ease, summoning a plate from the cupboard and putting it on the floor, right below where she was. Then, without paying attention to his friends’ utter looks of bewilderment, he unpacked the sausages from the basket and placed it neatly on her plate. 

“I hope you like them” he told her with a soft voice, smiling at the eagerness in her face before going back to sit at the table. When he sat down, he subconsciously made sure she was in his line of sight at all times.

Blaise and Theo were shocked at Draco’s behaviour. He had almost been - normal. There was something about the furry creature that made his dull eyes spark like they did years ago. Plus, the cat was a beauty, and stood out like a beacon. If it wasn’t from a first year, they were quite sure it was from no one they knew. Where did it come from, then?

“Come on, stop standing around with your mouths open like a pair of idiots. Let’s eat.”

And to that, they raised their eyebrows. Draco had stopped eating well since sixth year, his body gaunt and lean to prove it. He skipped every meal he could and barely nibbled his food on the ones he couldn’t, nevermind urging others to eat with him. What in Morgana’s name was going on?

They shrugged, shelving the discussion for later and taking their seats. They only hoped his rare behaviour would hold. He’d had similar episodes in the past which falsely implied recovery. A couple of days would pass and then he’d come tumbling down again. They’d do their research later. 

For a while, they ate in silence, only commenting on frugalities like how delicious the cauldron cakes were or how perfectly crunchy their toasts were prepared. Unluckily for Draco, he knew his friends were biding their time, having been privy to their relentless curiosity for many years. 

As usual, it was Theo who broke the silence.

“So where did it come from?” 

Draco took a deep breath, deciding to explain  _ almost _ the whole thing. It wouldn’t do for his best friends to regard him as a basket case, having never presented many abilities as a seer. “Right. So I found her at night being attacked by Mrs. Norris-”

“That bitch” Blaise interrupted, bitter at the mention of the hateful creature who had got him many detentions over the years.

Theo sneered, always rejoicing at the opportunity to be facetious. “Technically, bitches are female dogs and Mrs. Norris is a feline, which makes her-”

Blaise raised his wand stoically, silencing Theo’s tirade without so much as a glance, lifting an eyebrow at his companion for him to continue. Meanwhile, Draco sniggered. 

“As I was saying, she was hurt and alone, so I brought her here-”

“Wait, her?” Blaise asked, puzzlement furrowing his brows. “How do you know it’s a she if you haven’t even found its owner?”

Draco huffed, not thrilled at being constantly interrupted. “Well, she was bleeding pretty much everywhere, so I kinda  _ saw _ while I was looking for injuries to close-”

A loud wheeze interrupted them once again. There, next to her plate, Draco’s temporary pet coughed endlessly, her mouth opening in expressions so horrific they would probably be funny if the circumstances were different.

“Salazar, she’s choking-” 

With the loss of concentration, Blaise’s  _ silencing _ spell had broken. Theo, an avid Magical Creature enthusiast, all but ran to her aid. He kneeled on the floor, laying her flat over his thighs and muttering an incantation to dislodge the piece of sausage that was blocking her windpipe. With a final, undignified cough, it left her body and rolled to the floor before being  _ evanescoed _ by a disgusted Blaise.

“Charming” he commented, eyeing the defeated feline with a scrunched up nose. Meanwhile, Theo softly caressed her back, ensuring she was alright. 

“It’s okay, girl” he cooed, “take it easy next time, okay?” 

The poor animal lay on his legs, completely defeated. She was still recovering from the lack of breath, so she inhaled deeply as Theo petted her head. 

“She’s truly beautiful, but she does look a little skinny, like she hasn’t eaten a proper meal for days. I doubt she’s anyone’s pet” Theo pondered, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “And it’s not a common breed for it to be wandering the streets. She must be a Selkirk Rex. I wonder if we can keep her?” he asked, looking at her in the eyes. 

“No,” Draco answered halfway through his cauldron cake, “not until we make sure no one’s looking for her.”

“Well,” Blaise asked excitedly while he made his way to Theo, “we’d better give her a name, then!”

Draco gave an indignant cough. “ _ Excuse _ you, did you hear a word-”

“What about Sylvie, girl? You like Sylvie?” he wondered aloud, sitting down next to Theo and blocking her from Draco’s view on purpose. Her ears flattened when he finished the question, a low rumble sounding from her throat. 

Theo chuckled heartily. “Look, I think she loves it!” he clowned, making her tail flick and growl louder. 

“Alright, alright, not Sylvie,” he conceded, caressing her carefully on the chin. At this, her tail curled around her body comfortably. “What do you think of Iris?”

Not-Iris blinked slowly, her face annoyingly asking “seriously?” 

Blaise was in stitches. “Man, she’s so smart. I love her already.”

“What about Lilith?” a soft voice asked from behind them, bringing the young men back from their goofy bubble. The cat’s ears perked up, her head turning towards its source. Draco was peering intently at her from behind Blaise, his gray eyes seeking for confirmation. 

Theo smiled suddenly. “Hey, she’s purring!”

“Lilith it is then,” Blaise declared, standing up and dusting his robes off with his hands. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for class and _you_ need a shower” he said, jabbing his finger at Draco’s chest for emphasis.

In response, he made an obscene gesture with his hand. “Fuck you.” Internally, though, he took account of his greasy hair and vaguely disturbing body odor. Blaise had the subtlety of a giant in an apothecary, but his friend did have a point. When did he let himself sink so low?

* * *

Draco took the time to examine his arm in a transfixed state. He wondered when was the last time he’d had a decent shower, seeing as he had taken to  _ scourgifying  _ himself instead. There was something about being locked inside a tiled, echoing room that beckoned the deeper thoughts he fought so hard to drown in alcohol.

His left forearm pulsed underneath the running water. There the Mark stood, as black as the day his own father had offered him to be branded like cattle, in stark contrast against his alabaster skin. He could see the blue lines running like rivers underneath, carrying the precious substance the Malfoys had so eagerly defended for centuries.

Blood.

He took a closer look at the furious scabs littering his skin. He’d promised his friends he’d stop hurting himself the last time they found him on the floor, drunken out of his mind and stained crimson. He’d promised his own mother he’d stop the day she found him on the bathtub, when he almost succeeded carving the wretched thing off. But the pain… it made him feel something. It was a sudden rush of feeling before the numbness settled down once again. He hadn’t really been able to stop. 

The Mark always healed itself back, almost to pristine perfection, without the help of any spells, ointments or potions. It mocked him every single time he felt brave enough to let his eyes wander down its expanse, the grotesque figure reminding him of his unforgivable transgressions. If he looked closely enough, he could see the markings of his futile attempts to remove it in the shape of faint, thin, gray lines. However, once they reached the unmarred skin, they immediately turned red. 

The frothy bubbles stung when they came in contact with his injuries, but at that point, he definitely couldn’t care less. As unfamiliar as the process of lathering his own body had become, he welcomed the pain like the old friend it was, spending a bit of extra time on his arm before rinsing. 

He wondered if Granger’s mark on her arm hurt her daily, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Summary: Draco has a shower for the first time in weeks. He looks at the scars on his marked arm: evidence of earlier suicide attempts and current self-harm. As his wounds sting with the bubbles, he wonders if Hermione's scars hurt her always as well. 
> 
> Did you find the Easter Egg?? Theo mentions "Sylvie" as a name option, referencing "The Potions Mouse" from user Misdemeanor1331 here on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263510/chapters/48029761
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter! I engage with my tiny fanbase as well as share sneak peeks of the chapters, other stories, art and any important notice regarding this and my other story!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


	7. Episkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: brief reference of rape (no known character).
> 
> Hello hello! I noticed I will be absolutely busy tomorrow and on Friday (my usual update day), so I decided to treat you and upload a little bit earlier! Yay!  
> Howeverrr, from next week onwards we'll be back to the usual schedule. Have a wonderful rest of the week and stay safe!

Draco’s morning hadn’t been half bad. Truth was, he’d had such low expectations of his Eighth Year that everything had gone way better than what his wild imagination had come up with. He’d had a decent Charms class with his mates, an all right double Herbology with Blaise and a somewhat dull mandatory Muggle Studies lesson with Theo. Both of them were the only Slytherins there — as per Wizengamot’s ruling —, and they’d sadly received scathing glances from the other handful of students in the room. However, Draco barely noticed them, for his thoughts were filled with Lilith. 

He’d never had a cat before, so he was wondering whether he should buy some special food, routinely ask the Elves for different kinds of meat or thinking about what kind of bed he should buy her. A nice collar would be perfect as well, so that no other student took her away, thinking she had no owner.

Lilith was his now, and he was hers. He hoped she’d come around and be less wary around him in the future, but he supposed she’d take her time, being a stray. He promised himself to be patient on her behalf. 

“Draco, I swear on Salazar’s bollocks that I will  _ not _ lend you my notes if you keep on looking out the window.” 

Theo’s voice brought him back from his daydream, in which he was choosing the most exquisite accessories for his new familiar. With one quick glance at the clock he noticed the class was about to finish, and his parchment was as blank as it had been at the beginning of the lesson.

“Fuck me.”

“I’d rather not, dear, but if you let me keep Lilith I’ll consider it seriously” Theo answered with a smile on his face. Meanwhile, a stern-looking Ravenclaw sitting in front of them bid them a murderous look before turning her head back to the board. They’d been through similar experiences for long enough, so they went through the motions of ignoring her automatically. 

Draco let out an angry sigh, his cheeks turning a bright pink colour. “How many times have I told you not to-”

“Joke about prostitution. I know, I’m sorry” Theo excused himself with a sheepish downwards glance. “It’s hard to forget when you grow up around people who enjoy those so much.”

The blond knew very well what his friend was talking about. Pureblood males were keen on sexist customs, including joking about serious matters such as prostitution or rape, but those from Voldemort’s inner circle even more so. Draco had been like that as the beginning as well, until he was invited to take part in the revels. After stomaching all the sights and sounds,  _ occluding _ until he thought he was going to faint and vomiting for an hour after everything was done, he had vowed to never undermine others’ suffering. 

“Fine. Try harder” he bit back, chasing away the many horrors that frequented his nightmares.

Their new teacher, Mrs. Figg, bid them farewell with a kind look and wished them well. “See you on Wednesday,” she said, landing her gaze momentarily at the duo of Slytherins with a tiny smile. 

Draco nodded courtly and began gathering his unused supplies to place them inside his bag. To Theo’s amusement, he had done so without the use of magic, most probably still adjusting to recently having his wand back. He decided against mentioning it, for he was sure it would bring his friend sorrow, so he decided to divert his attention in order to prevent him from noticing as well. 

“All right, kitchens or Great Hall?” he asked, putting his things away without magic as well.

“Kitchens, I need to get something for Lilith” Draco answered, placing the strap of his bag around his shoulder and practically darting towards the door.

“Can I come?” Theo followed with a skip in his step. “I wanna play with her!”

“Be my guest, but you tell Blaise it was your idea when he gets all drama king.”

Turns out such conflict was avoided easily, for said wizard was waiting in front of the Head dorms when they arrived with another basket of food, courtesy of Blinky. He was leaning against the wall, with a look that told them he already knew they were coming back.

“I call firsts with Lillith!” Theo exclaimed, all but running inside as soon as the painting allowed them entry. Curiously enough, the Wise Ones hadn’t let Blaise inside without Draco, which was a calming thought for him. Theo was bound to steal Lilith more than once if they did. 

“You think McGonagall will let me change rooms? I mean, I could be Head Girl.”

“No way, I already escaped from your snores and you want to curse me with them again? I’d rather take Blaise” Draco answered in jest, setting the basket on the countertop as the latter fixed the table for four. All the while, Theo made a beeline towards the windowsill, where a sleeping Lilith made an annoyed sound, clearly bothered about being woken up from her nap.

“Hello, girl! How are you feeling?” he cooed, slowly bringing his open hand closer to her. However, he couldn’t get close enough, for she growled at the sight of him. He raised his eyebrows at her warning, clearly surprised at the change of attitude.

“Look, Drake, she’s feeling better!” Theo beckoned, half-whispering, half-shouting to his friends. Blaise sniggered from behind, thoroughly enjoying the Slytherin Prince’s face of disbelief.

“You’re the only idiot I know who would enjoy being attacked by a female,” Draco said with a smirk, setting Lilith’s chicken on the plate right next to his. 

At that, Theo turned around with a smirk of his own.

“I distinctly recall  _ someone _ being thoroughly happy at having his arse handed to him by Granger in Third Year.” 

“No, I wasn’t!” Draco sputtered indignantly, botching his attempt at transfiguring a glass into a water bowl for Lilith. 

Behind Theo, Lilith looked at him with a curious shine in her eyes.

“Oh mate, she’s interested! Aren’t you, Lil’?” Blaise asked from a respectful distance, watching as she settled down carefully on the ledge again, turning to face him at his question. 

“Don’t you dare-”

“Oh, hush, you party pooper, it’s not like she’s going to tell Granger. Look! Her eyes are positively _ glistening  _ in excitement!” Theo practically squealed,  _ accioing _ his plate and a sandwich from the basket. Then, with another flick of his wand, he moved one of the settees to face Lilith and sat down gingerly. Seeing as the three of them shared one brain cell more often than not, Blaise also  _ accioed _ his food before settling himself right next to Theo.

Lilith’s tail flicked back and forth in anticipation, ignoring Draco’s exasperated groan from the other side of the room.

“Okay, so as you probably know, one of your owners’ names is Draco Malfoy. That’s the blond git over there,” Blaise pointed a thumb behind his back without looking away from the enraptured feline, “and he has been desperately in love with a witch since he was eleven years old.”

“But because he is a bloody idiot, he never told her how he felt about her. Instead, he completely antagonised her and her two best friends” Theo continued, taking a bite off his meal. Lilith cocked her head at this, silently urging them to continue.

“Don’t you look at us like that, it wasn’t completely his fault. His dad is a basket case and, well, that’s a story for some other time. Thing is,” Blaise picked up, “when they were in Third Year, this witch smacked him so hard in the face she broke his nose!” he guffawed, unable to control his laughter. On the other hand, Theo got a hold of himself just enough to finish the story, but barely.

“Oh, the look on his face when he came to us that night was priceless. His ego was so wounded the poor bastard had  _ episkeyed _ himself and swore his goons to secrecy” he hollered, letting the memories flow and add to his amusement. Next to him, Blaise clutched his stomach, rejoicing in the privacy of a room in which people of their lineage needn’t control their every move.

The look of perplexity was back in Lilith’s face as she stared blankly in Draco’s general direction, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Alright, that’s quite enough.” His voice, filled with the tell-tale iciness of  _ occlumency  _ indicated a finality that not even his best friends dared to defy. Instead, they put the furniture back in its place and treaded to the table without so much as a cough to clear their throats before they resumed their lunch. 

As they fixed themselves some dessert, Draco motioned Lilith to come over to them, letting her have as much space as she needed to eat in peace. The last thing he wanted was another bite from her. 

“Eat up, Lilith. I’ll go see McGonagall before supper so that she can check the pet registry. After that, we can get you a proper bed and collar.”

However, Draco never was able to see the Headmistress, for she received an urgent call by the Ministry and would be gone until further notice. In her place, Professor Flitwick remained as a temporary replacement, which did little to quell the Slytherin’s worry. 

When he visited Flitwick to get a look at the pet registry, he half-expected the Charms master to kick him out. After all, he didn’t believe many could be as magnanimous as McGonagall — not even Draco himself had wanted to come back to Hogwarts. Instead, Professor Flitwick greeted him with a polite smile, along with the offering of his renowned dancing cupcakes. 

With a quick look at the registry, they found out that no student owned a curly-haired cat, so he promptly inscribed Lilith under his name on the list — a fact that annoyed Theo, who insisted she  _ also _ belonged to him, which led to Blaise’s annoyance towards the fact that  _ clearly _ Lilith belonged to all three of them.

Alas, he spent the first week of his Eighth Year with his new pet and two best friends, amongst discussions of whose turn it was to feed Lillith, what colour should her bed be and what gem suited her fur the best. Unbeknownst to his friends, though, Draco had written to his mother on the very first day, asking her to contact the Malfoy family’s jewelry maker so that he could order a custom-made pet collar made of the finest dragon leather. Attached to it, he commissioned a white gold plaque, embedded with tiny diamonds surrounding an alexandrite — one of his birth stones. On the back, the plaque was engraved with “Lilith — Draco L. Malfoy” in the most exquisite handwriting. 

So when her collar arrived on Friday morning and she refused to wear it, saying that Draco was disappointed would have been an understatement. He tried every trick in the book under his friends’ watchful but amused glances (even resorting to begging!) to no avail. 

In the end, after an hour of unsuccessful trickery, pleading and bribing, it was Theo who convinced her to put it on. Draco never knew exactly how he did it, for as soon as he bent down and whispered something to her, Lilith’s ears perked and she gingerly let him place it around her neck. 

Her health drastically improved with each passing day. She ate well, slept a lot and mysteriously never soiled anything. He reluctantly let Theo and Blaise pet her somewhat, but was very skittish around Draco. 

She took to sleeping on one of the armchairs in front of the fire, even more so on Saturday evening when the trio came back from Hogsmeade with the plushiest, most beautiful purple cushion they could find for her. 

Draco hadn’t noticed, but by the end of the week, he began needing a couple glasses less of firewhiskey to fall asleep.


	8. The Poison You Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Lucius sucks. Psychological abuse after the page break (more info in the chapter notes at the end of the chapter).
> 
> Good day, everyone! I do hope you're feeling better than I am. My pet has been at the vet for roughly two weeks now, and she's been an important part of my life these past thirteen years so I'm kinda devastated. Hence the depressing tone of this chapter, so please keep that in mind if you're not feeling well yourself. Have puppy videos or your favourite songs at hand for some soul-cleansing afterwards <3
> 
> Two important notices!  
> 1, due to some personal reasons my beta-reader won't be able to continue with this project. This means I'm on the lookout for one or two betas! If you're interested (which I'd be SO thankful for) please contact me via Twitter. Also, please let me know if you find any mistakes. I'm not an English native speaker, so many of those just fly by.   
> 2, I have reached 300 followers on Twitter!!! As a huge thank you to all of you, I'd like to post a commemorative one-shot (or two-shot). I have already done one for Boku no Hero, so the voting will be between Zutara (Avatar: The Last Airbender) and Dramione! Please head over to Twitter to vote! You've got until next Thursday 11th of February. Thank you so so much!

_ Three weeks. Three weeks and Granger was  _ still _ petrified, her right hand still in the motion of holding a long-gone mirror to protect herself. Clever, but not clever enough.  _

_ The act of pretending how much he despised her was taking a physical toll on his body. The dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his pale skin, turning them an ugly blueish-purple hue. Pansy Parkinson, of all people, discreetly taught him a  _ glamour _ charm that made them  _ almost _ invisible. His stomach turned into knots whenever he saw Saint Potter and the Weasel coming to their shared lessons on their own. He missed looking out for her hair in the crowds and the Great Hall for meals. He gave out most of the contents of his mother’s weekly treat-bags from Honeydukes and barely wrote back to her. _

_ He was getting sick and tired of being unable to control the unbearable need to roam the corridors at night so that nobody could see him sneaking out to the infirmary. That night, just like all others before that, her lifeless, unseeing eyes not meeting his own tore his heart apart. He’d kept holding it on, holding everything in for too long. As he danced around Mrs. Norris, Filch, Peeves and the ghosts, the stone walls in the halls closed around him and strained his breath. _

_ He didn’t notice when the first tears started falling, and he scarcely took into account the dark-haired bespectacled figure in front of him.  _

_ His watery eyes made him believe he was in front of Potter himself, but the unmistakable voice of one of his best friends sent a wave of both dread and relief through his core. _

_ “We need to talk.”  _

_ His body moved on its own, guided by Theo’s hand on his arm. The tears flooded freely yet silently then, wetting his cheeks, falling down his neck and unto the collar of his silk pyjamas. His vision, blurred as it was, did nothing to alert him of their whereabouts, so in his haze, it came as a surprise that they ended up on their usual spot. _

_ The heavy wooden door of the classroom closed behind him with the softest ‘thud’. _

_ Another pair of well-known hands gently grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the back of the room, where he was greeted with a steaming cup of sugary tea. _

_ At first, the minutes ticked by between tears, silent sips of Earl Gray and the odd hiccup. He didn’t even try to fake it: if his mates had found him, it was because they knew something was wrong. He had been taught to never show weakness, to always maintain a cool and calm facade… but it was so hard to do so in front of the two people who were brothers from another mother.  _

_ It wasn’t until the last teardrop fell that he decided to chance a look at them. Where he thought he would see mockery, there was concern. Where he thought he would see rage, he saw peace. Understanding. Things his father had never warned him about. So he looked down at his shoes once more in shame. _

_ Blaise was the first to break the silence. His voice held his usual calmness, but also carried the tiniest speck of sadness. “What's wrong, Drake?” _

_ Draco drew into himself like he always did. In his mind, he chastised himself in an effort to retake control. Inhale. Exhale. _

_ “You already know, don’t you?” He almost succeeded, only the slight tremor of his vocal folds betraying his utterly devastated state.  _

_ He missed the look between his fellow housemates, a guarded kind of exchange in which they decided how to best tackle the situation.  _

_ “You’re not exactly subtle about it.” Ironically, it was Theo’s distinctive  _ lack  _ of subtlety that won in the end. _

_ Draco’s pressure spiked, blood drenching from his face in the blink of an eye. He was panicking. What would happen to him  _ — _ or worse, what would happen to  _ her —  _ if word got out to his father?  _

_ He wasn’t stupid. He just played the part to ease his mother’s worries, but he definitely knew way more than what he led on. On more than one occasion he’d spied on his father’s meetings, hidden in one of the multiple secret passages of his ancient home. He knew the kind of people he frequented, the kind of people he  _ led _. And he was expected to lead them too, in the future. What would they say? If his father asked them to hurt her- _

_ Inhale. Exhale. _

_ He pictured himself shoving his increasingly uncontrollable feelings into boxes and closing them tightly. Slowly yet surely, the panic decreased to a more manageable state, the one that always left him feeling a little bit numb. This time, however, it was accompanied by a particular type of coldness. _

_ “Don’t worry, nobody knows” Blaise reassured him with a kind half-smile. Sadly, it did little to quell Draco’s despair. _

_ “Yeah, no one has seen you staring at her horrid hai-” Theo’s ill-timed buffoonery was interrupted by a loud ‘thwack’ from the disapproving slap of Blaise’s hand at the base of his skull. In front of him, Draco sported a murderous, thin-lipped stare. He briefly considered jinxing the idiot, but his expression was apparently enough to make him stop.  _

_ “Okay, okay, sorry” Theo apologised, fixing his fallen glasses over his nose with one hand.  _

_ Blaise sighed threatically, already used to his friend’s antics. “Mate, could you not?” he questioned rhetorically, scrunching his nose in distaste. Theo’s usual attitude helped with some of the less grave situations, but Draco’s infatuation with Granger was considered abysmal with a touch of potentially life-threatening by their standards.  _

_ With a heavy gulp, Draco decided to lower his defences. It went against everything he’d ever been taught, but more than a year had passed already and his stupid heart always got in the middle. He was terribly ashamed of his childish crush  _ _ — it wasn’t even proper for someone of his standing — but  _ nothing _ had worked so far. He’d been at the end of her passionate insults more than once and  _ gods _ was it infuriatingly attractive. He always came back for more in the guise of being offended by her mere existence. It was beginning to backfire, yet he found out he didn’t give a rat’s ass and  _ that _ was the truly horrifying thought.  _

_ After inconspicuously clearing his throat, he dared to verbalize the question that had intruded on his brain since the first moment he realised she wasn’t like him.  _

_ “What can I do?” _

_ His friends shared another look and a silent conversation passed between them. Luckily, Theo decided against speaking that time, seeing as it was a more delicate situation.  _

_ “Look,” Blaise began, pushing his now empty cup towards the centre of the desk before resting both hands on his lap. “The way I see it, you can do two things. You can either accept it-” _

_ “No way” Draco opened his gray eyes in horror as he shook his head emphatically. “ _ He’ll _ hurt her.” _

_ Both friends nodded, completely understanding who Drake was talking about, having already assumed the outcome previously.  _

_ “Or you can move on.” _

_ Draco Malfoy stared at him with a raised eyebrow, not really comprehending the point. How did one simply move on from such a massive crush that had the likes of him crying around the castle like a toddler?  _

_ With a soft hum, Theo spoke of his plan out loud. “Have you noticed Pansy Parkinson giving you  _ the look _ recently? _

* * *

_ Draco felt like he’d been on his father’s study with increasing frequency. Before Hogwarts, he’d only set foot in the luxurious room once. Now, however, it was the third time he’d been there for a very similar conversation, increasing the great total to four. If he followed the same train of thought, he’d realise that only one quarter of those meetings were pleasant, but he refused to let his mind wander down that path. Instead, he focused on the menacing pair of gray eyes in front of him  _ _ — so similar, yet so different from his.  _

_ “Do you enjoy disgracing the family, boy?” Lucius asked with his usual sneer. Ah, it all came back to that for his father, regardless of the implications.  _

_ “No, sir” Draco answered from his chair, beginning the now familiar process of metaphorically shoving his feelings into boxes. Only now they’d evolved from boxes into silver chests, closed shut and warded by magical padlocks that only he could pry open.  _

_ “Frederick Flint sent an owl this morning. Do you know what it said?” _

_ “No, sir.” Oh, but he imagined what it was like based on the previous letters sent by Brayden Crabbe and Dover Goyle  _ _ — his minions’ respective fathers. _ __

_ “Am I to assume you haven’t understood how disgraceful your attitude towards your education and your social standing has been on these past two years?”  _

_ Silence. _

_ “So not only do I have to deal with an icompetent heir, but also a stupid one” he spat out, rage clearly noticeable on his usually controlled voice. Those were new levels of fury for his father, the likes Draco had never seen before. Not even directed at the house-elf Potter had freed.  _

_ Silence.  _

_ “Speak!” the Malfoy patriarch yelled, threatening his very own son with his wand aimed at his throat. The chests in his mind faltered yet held on, effectively keeping his tears at bay.  _

_ “I will be better,” Draco croaked, forcing his mental cages to stay shut. The familiarity of the situation did not go unnoticed by his father, who scoffed disdainfully at his rebuttal. _

_ “No, son, you have already proven you are not good enough. That revolting Mudblood witch can keep her first place for this school year, but it shall be the last. It will be your job to make that trio of imbeciles’ lives so miserable that they leave the school. Feel free to resort to…  _ any  _ necessary methods to keep the animal in its place”  _

_ Draco’s lips quivered. He managed a sharp nod before his father dismissed him with a sharp hand movement, scrambling as gracefully as possible to leave that horrid room. _

_ “Oh, and Draco?” Lucius beckoned just as he was about to leave, his back turned on his son. “Prometheus Parkinson has made known his intent on pursuing a union with the Malfoys. While we arrange the details of the betrothal contract, you are to begin courting his daughter.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW details: Chapter set on Year 2. At the end of the school year, Draco gets chewed on and spat by Lucius for not besting Hermione. He proceeds to threaten him, call him names and ultimately forcing him to torment the (not yet) Golden Trio, preferrably until they decide to leave the school. Lastly, as Draco's leaving, Lucius announces Mr. Parkinson's desire to marry Pansy to Draco, so Lucius lets his son know they are to begin the courting process.


	9. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody, I hope life is treating you well. I'm sorry for the short hiatus, but my baby unfortunately passed away so I needed some time to mourn in peace. I'm doing better, but it's still been very hard. I hope you enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter in compensation.
> 
> This week, there's two more important notices.  
> One, the winning pair of the poll ended up being Zutara, from Avatar: The Last Airbender. If you like that ship, be on the lookout for the commemorative one-shot! When I reach 500 followers I'll be doing a Dramione one, so please don't be discouraged.   
> Two, I'm going back to work on Monday. This means I probably won't be able to upload as frequently as I do now, but I will try my best to stick with the weekly schedule. Thank you all for being so supportive and awesome!

_ “What else did you take? What else have you got!? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife! How did you get into my vault!?” _

_ “It’s a copy, I swear!”  _

_ “Control yourself, Draco. What would Severus think?” _

_ “CRUCIO!” _

_ “I once thought we might be friends.” _

_ “I will carve you up like the filthy animal you are!” _

_ “Expelliarmus!” _

_ “Obliviate.”  _

_ Tap tap tap. _

Soft, barely-there touches on his tear-streaked cheek awoke him from his tortuous sleep. His brain, still foggy from being disturbed so abruptly, took a second to process his surroundings: a wardrobe, a night table, a chair… and a bed, which he was currently sleeping on, untucked and uncovered. 

He strenuously stretched in an effort to make the fatigue go away before the distinct feeling of glass brushed against the skin of his hand. There, he found one of his vials of Hangover potion, the ones he always summoned in the morning. This time, however, it was  _ already _ there.

Sleep mingled with confusion and drunkenness as he scratched his head, trying his best to remember at what time exactly he had gone to bed, considering he spent all last week sleeping in the living room. In fact, that morning had been the very first time he’d even looked at the place. It was the basic Hogwarts style, very Slytherin-like and unremarkable. Just like him. 

Draco groaned in exasperation. That simple mystery got his paranoia going, the frustratingly familiar feeling of being at somebody else’s mercy back in full force. Best case scenario, he’d floated himself to bed in an exemplary — yet not new — display of drunken magic. Worst case? Someone, or  _ something _ , had moved him there. 

The young Malfoy heir shuddered, unwilling to even acknowledge the possibility. Instead, he unfastened the vial, promptly swallowed his liquid will to live and resolutely marched to the bathroom in order to get a much needed shower. He needed to hurry to the kitchens, for it was his turn to get the basket that morning.

Letting the water cascade around him as he lathered his blonde locks, his restless mind drifted away towards other topics. He had double Herbology later that morning and, by the looks of the angry black clouds outside the windows, Autumn was beginning in full force. 

Would Lilith need a matching coat for the cold?

\-----------

Another bland school day had passed. He’d got the same amount of stares and scornful glances as always, as well as being shoved harshly by other students. However, instead of retaliating, he just let it all happen without a peep. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about hate or revenge anymore. He’d had enough of it for three lifetimes.

It was 8 o’clock in the evening on that fateful Monday night. Blaise and Theo had gone back to bed early after tiring themselves with the very first Charms essay of the year, begrudgingly leaving Draco and Lilith alone for the rest of the night. 

Not long after they’d left, he reached out to grab his usual poison. When he sat down in front of the fire, ready to have the first gulp, Lilith rushed from her usual spot and jumped onto his lap. The surprise almost made him drop the glass but he managed to catch it as it fell, barely spilling a couple drops. He could take that loss. 

“Hey! This is new,” he cooed, staring into her big brown eyes. Her pupils were completely dilated, with a playful spark in them he’d never seen before. She was standing on his knees, staring back at him. 

He tried to pat her on the head, but she swiftly ducked in order to prevent him from making contact. Draco deflated, greatly thrown off from her attitude. 

“Gee, thanks,” he huffed in disappointment, only for Lilith to make a movement akin to rolling her eyes. Draco, who was already used to her coldness, simply let her be. He knew she was more likely to come around if he did not press, but still hoped she were at least as friendly as she was with Theo. 

He decided that ignoring her would be the best course of action, so he slowly lifted his glass to his lips. He never was able to, though, for Lilith quickly knocked the glass down with one of her paws, causing it to shatter on the carpeted floor. Then, without a moment’s delay, she hopped down and ran to hide underneath her seat, giving Draco what he felt to be the most judgmental look he’d ever received from a cat. 

“Bloody hell.” 

Draco lifted his wand to quickly vanish the mess and put the broken shards together. That glass would be lost, but he’d make sure to keep an eye out for her mischief in the future. 

“I swear to Merlin, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were doing that on purpose” he growled, pouring himself another hearty serving. Lilith blinked, staring intently at the alcohol falling from the bottle. 

His new attempt to drink was now being interrupted by the portrait letting three people through. He quickly vanished the forbidden substance, already aware of who the only other person capable of being let in by the Wise Ones was: a severely worried-looking Professor Flitwick. 

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy” he greeted Draco, nervously fumbling with the wand on his hands.

“Good evening, Professor Flitwick,” he said back as he stood up from his seat, taking a quick look at the two intruders in surprise. Letting his mask fall instantaneously back into place, he lifted a single eyebrow at his old rivals. “Potter. Weasley.”

They were both wearing navy-blue trench coats: the mark of their position as Aurors on their first year of training. Potter held an expression of nervous determination, while Weasley, silent and red as a beet, looked ready to explode at any time.

“We are sorry for interrupting,” the Charms master coughed, clearly unsettled by the whole situation. “Aurors Potter and Weasley are here on behalf of the Ministry. They’d like to ask some questions.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes at the pair. He knew he’d be under strict surveillance from the Ministry, but he  _ assumed _ they’d take more than a week to come. Furthermore, the fact that those two were the ones to interrogate him made his blood boil. He’d been found guilty, and he was paying his penance. Was it necessary for them to make it worse?

“No problem, Professor” he managed to grit through his teeth before the coldness of Occlumency enveloped his brain and gave him some of his control back. “I’m ready whenever they are.”

“Good” the man was able to mutter before going right back the way he came from in the blink of an eye. It seemed that not even Flitwick was willing to oversee his unfair punishment. Perfect. 

He had no time to utter a single word before the deafening sound of Ronald Weasly’s voice pierced his ears.

“ _ Incarcerous _ !”

Thick ropes were lunged towards him with such force that he was blasted to the floor as they coiled around his body, twisting and turning until he was left almost gasping for air.

“Goddammit Ron” Harry cursed, displeased with his best friend’s attitude. “You promised you wouldn’t do anything stupid if I let you come.”

“Binding the ferret is  _ anything  _ but stupid if you ask me” he replied, still aiming his wand at the powerless Draco laying on the floor. Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something intelligible under his breath.

“Great,” Draco thought, “the Wonder Duo is back with its usual ineptitude.” They really were nothing without Hermione. 

“Alright, you wanker, what did you do to Hermione?” Ron questioned him, barely containing his anger. 

Draco went pale. 

“You think I did something to her?” he replied incredulously. The idiots had no idea of how far away from the truth they were.

“I know you did. Where did your minions take her!?”

“What in the name of Morgana are you talking about?” Draco asked, feeling his Occlumency slip. 

“Don’t play dumb, Malfoy, it doesn’t suit you” Ron spat, sparks flying out of the tip of his wand. 

Draco truly began to feel unease at the sight of uncontrolled magic. Weasley was volatile, and he didn’t put past the fact that he would Avada him if it weren’t illegal. At that moment, though, he wasn’t sure the whole legality question mattered to him at all. 

“I swear I know nothing,” he said calmly, trying to appease the brute. 

_ Crash! _ Weasley aimed his wand at the cupboard, making glasses and plates shatter in a thousand pieces.

“Don’t give me that shit! Where is Hermione? WHERE IS MY MOM?”

“ _ Petrificus Totalus. _ ” 

Ron was left mid-shout, his face contorted in rage. Meanwhile, Harry sighed once more, giving his best friend a sad look.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. He hasn’t been himself since…”

“No hard feelings, Potter,” Draco shrugged, feeling a mix of relief and frustration at being saved by the bespectacled menace for the third time in less than a year. 

Harry let Malfoy go, offering his hand to help him up. After Draco stood, he gestured towards the table. There they sat, staring at each other uncomfortably in silence for what seemed to be centuries. Finally, Potter spoke.

“Look, there’s been some… strange happenings lately. The Auror Department is very busy trying to solve this case, and you were labeled as a possible suspect.”

“Nothing new under the sun,” Draco huffed, letting his head fall against his open palm in an almost unbothered manner.

“Where were you yesterday evening at approximately 7 p.m?” 

“I was in this very room, spending time with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. We’ve taken to having all our meals here, so you may ask the elf called Blinky to confirm this to you. Blaise and Theo went back to the Eighth Year Dorms early today though, so you can find them there.”

“Right… and have you seen anything strange happening at the Castle lately?” Harry asked, furrowing his brows in thought. 

“Not really. I go to class and come back here. We went to Hogsmeade on the weekend, but saw nothing weird. We went to buy a bed for my pet, so you can call the owner of Edelgard’s Fine Fabrics to confirm as well.” He’d rather lay everything on the table than being accused of withholding information.

“Have you heard anything from Marcus Flint lately?”

Draco flinched, surprised at hearing the name. “No,” he spat in anger. “I haven’t contacted any of  _ them _ since the end of the war.”

Them. The Death Eaters that got away. The reminders of malice, of whom he’d pretended to be in order to save his mother from the grasp of a lunatic. Them, the ones who’d sworn revenge on blood traitors and muggleborns alike. Them, the ones who appeared in his dreams to hunt him down for betraying the Dark Lord. 

Harry drummed his fingers on the table as Draco chased his nightmares away. After the longest minute of his life, he stood up and released him of his bindings.

“I don’t think you’re guilty, Malfoy” Potter said, looking at him with determination in his eyes. “If you see anything weird, please give me a call.”

He proceeded to cast a Wingardium Leviosa at Weasley to float his petrified form out of the room, barely sparing a glance at the cat who had been staring at him with the saddest eyes. 


	10. Shards of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love friendship? Clues are coming in steadily now! I'd say we're now one-third into the story? I'm so bad at Math, though, don't trust me. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your ever-present support. Your comments mean the world to me. Please take care of yourselves.

Draco spent several hours in the same spot he’d been sitting at when Potter left the room. He looked at the aftermath of Weasley’s rage: shards upon shards of broken china and glass littering the floor. They gave off a beautiful gleam when the light shone against them just right. The poor things weren’t even part of the one-sided argument; they’d just been attacked on a whim and left abandoned on the stone without a second thought. Just like the many innocents that were caught in the middle of the battle all those months ago. 

His unseeing gray eyes were wide open, but he was staring at nothing in particular. Instead, memories and faces of the fallen paraded in his mind. 

Colin Creevey. Lavender Brown. Happy faces he saw every day for many years, colliding and intertwining with the bloody messes that resulted in the wake of their final moments. 

Severus Snape. Fred Weasley. Their horrified expressions forever plastered, left for their loved ones to grief. Two people he never truly appreciated before they were gone.

Remus Lupin, the teacher he never publicly acknowledged to admire. Nymphadora Tonks, the cousin he was never able to meet.

Piles of bodies, regardless of their affiliations while living. Death came to all, Death Eaters and Order members alike. Why not him? Why was he still breathing?

He barely noticed when the fire died in the hearth, welcoming the subsequent chill that enveloped his body and pierced him to the bone. Was Hermione all right? Was she hungry, or cold? The image of her body, limping, frail from malnourishment and dirty from their travelling would not leave his memory anytime soon. She had no idea that night at the Manor had also left deep scars on him. 

He thought he was imagining it at first. Perhaps he’d been awake for so long he’d finally died, or at least started hallucinating. Yet the eerie, purple glow he saw in the corner of his eye only increased in intensity. It was there, alright  — enveloping Lilith’s body while she slumbered. 

As the light became brighter, Lilith began twitching and chattering. The initial subtle movements gave way to spasms and painful yowls, the sound of which made Draco spring out of his seat and run to her aid.

“Lil? Hey, Lil? What’s wrong, girl?” he urged as he knelt beside her, afraid of the unknown magic taking place. He hovered his hands around her uselessly, not daring to place a single finger to prevent any disasters from happening. But her pained meows continued increasing in volume, breaking his pathetic heart in a million pieces. What kind of an owner was he if he couldn’t protect her from whatever was happening?

“Fuck it all.” He threw caution to the wind and quickly scooped her up into his arms, rocking her back and forth in an effort to soothe her mysterious ailment. Meanwhile, he ran all the diagnostic spells he knew, but found no evidence of any curse or physical injury. He could only hold her and wish it all away.

Lilith’s heart rate decreased slowly, her spasms stopping altogether after some of the few most agonising minutes of Draco’s sorry life. He sighed in relief when the ethereal glow subsided as well, feeling his soul come back into his body when she finally curled into a ball on his lap and succumbed into a deep sleep. 

* * *

“Bloody hell, what the fuck happened here?”

“Hello, did you even register the fact that the bloody bird let us-”

“Hush! Where’s Lilith? She could’ve injured herself with all these” Theo said, casting a quick  _ Reparo _ to the mysterious disaster on the floor. His eyes quickly lay in the middle of the room, where a dozing Draco snored peacefully. He was sitting on the carpet, his back placed on the big settee in front of the dancing fire. On his lap, a very comfortable Lilith purred, still half-asleep.

Blaise followed the direction of his friend’s gaze, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I knew I should’ve bought a camera,” he snickered, placing the breakfast basket on the table. After a week and a day, the unusual routine they stumbled upon was beginning to feel more natural. It was a welcome reprieve from the hostility they got from the school, a safe little haven in which they could be themselves. Blinky was very helpful and began to leave a basket ready for the three of them before every meal so the waiting time was greatly reduced, letting them spend more time together or with Lilith. 

“We can go to Hogsmeade in the afternoon if you want,” Theo suggested, examining the plates in search of any lingering cracks as he set the table. “Merlin knows I need a pint or a dozen after yesterday.”

“How did you come in? What happened yesterday?” a zombified Draco asked while he stretched, his voice gruff. Lilith perked up at the sound, dislodging her head from her front paws before looking at him intently. 

Theo and Blaise exchanged a look when they saw Lil accepting head scratches from the git, deciding to make no comments on the matter at the moment. They knew Draco would talk about their relationship development when he felt ready to. Instead, they focused on the unfinished conversation and the very important task of brewing sugary tea for three.

“Potter woke us up to interrogate us last night. Due to the previous state of the cupboard, I take he paid you a visit as well?” Blaise inquired in between bites of toast.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t him. That was actually the Weasel'' Draco spat out, lovingly placing Lilith on the floor before  _ accioing _ her plate. “What’s for her today?”

“Chicken, but don’t evade. What did he ask you about?” Theo stared as Draco fixed her breakfast, discomfort evident on his face.

The silence stretched on. It wasn’t until the three of them were sitting down that he found the courage to speak. 

“Potter wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious. He asked where I was on Sunday and if I knew anything about Flint.”

Theo shuddered. “I’d completely forgotten about that tosser’s existence.”

Marcus Flint had joined the Death Eaters shortly after Draco had been forced to take the Mark. He, unlike Draco, was very proud of it and frequently boasted about his crimes towards muggles and muggleborns. He was ruthless, one of the most commited new recruits and, as such, swiftly climbed the ranks until he just about reached Voldemort’s inner circle.

They were frequently on missions together. He could see firsthand how the most vile curses left his wand and striked his victims without a second thought. He had mastered unforgivables easily while Draco struggled with a simple  _ Crucio _ . He enjoyed every single revel, always taking pleasure in violently hurting the muggles they captured, especially women. Draco knew Flint had noticed how he always skipped them, but never let Voldemort know. That was the only thing he could be grateful for. 

After the Battle of Hogwarts, he, a bunch of young Death Eaters and a few stray older ones narrowly avoided capture and had been on the run since.

“It was almost the same for us” Blaise mused, cocking his head in thought. “Although, instead of asking for him he asked about Granger, Molly Weasley and McGonagall.”

Draco’s head jerked up. “The Weasel also mentioned his mother, but I thought he was delusional” he muttered, side-eyeing the cupboard. “What does McGonagall have to do with all this? Isn’t she at the Ministry now?” 

Blaise pursed his lips and shaked his head. “I don’t think so, Drake.” He then proceeded to reach into the pockets of his robe and  _ engorgioing _ a freshly printed magazine. 

“Take a look at the article on page five. It’s today’s issue.”

Draco reached out, lifting a single eyebrow when he read the title of the tabloid. “Again with The Quibbler?”

Theo scoffed. “Let me remind you from where we got the real information during the war, you git. Just because it has the sporadic article about nargles doesn’t mean it’s not useful!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll read it” Draco smirked, lifting his hands in surrender as Blaise covered his mouth to suppress his sniggers. 

Theo had always been defensive of the magazine and its author’s daughter, Luna Lovegood. Both Blaise and Theo knew he harbored a mad crush for her, but they could never get him to admit it. Instead, they just let him fool himself that he did it because ‘it was the right thing to do.’

His amusement was short-lived, however, once he began reading the aforementioned article.

_ Mysterious Disappearances in Our Wizarding World _

_ It’s been four months since the defeat of the Dark. Wizarding Britain has been slowly but steadily bringing itself back to life with the help of valuable members from our own community. War criminals are being trialed, buildings are being repaired and Hogwarts students went back to school on September 1st, ready for a Carrow-free school year, including the many First Years who were not able to join under Voldemort’s reign. _

_ However, where there’s light there will always be shadows. Members of the Order of the Phoenix have been disappearing, one by one, starting with our very own Hermione Granger. Other key figures such as Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones and Molly Weasley have also gone missing, despite what the Prophet and other official institutions want to make us think.  _

_ Our sources say the Ministry prefers to lay low so as not to alert the general public and cause mass panic. There’s a vast recovery effort underway, so we hope they can be found safe and sound. Please keep an eye out for the following faces, and keep in mind they may have been glamoured to prevent recognition. _

At the bottom of the page, five photographs, one for each person, smiled at Draco from the paper. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he took a long look at Granger’s picture. Sighing, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I know I told you I’d never ask for any favours ever again on Sixth Year-” he started dryly, but Blaise and Theo interrupted his speech by placing their hands on his arms in their ever-present display of support.

“Mate,” Blaise whispered, “consider it done.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Twitter!!
> 
> https://twitter.com/denkinokofics


End file.
